Well, the wait is finally over and I graced my eyes upon Alien: Covenant yesterday evening. I'm going to try to be as spoiler-free as much as possible but I'm also going to be brutally honest, and pondering it after a nights sleep I can only begin with saying that it's very much a big disappointment. As a devout fan of the entire franchise, it's tough for me to judge it harshly but while it does detach itself from the pretentiousness and silly pondering of Prometheus (2012), not unlike it's predecessor, Covenant almost entirely fails to deliver on its promises.

Ridley Scott was always going to be stuck in a creative bind with this film: should he jettison his lofty ambitions from what came before and strip the franchise bare to resemble the masterful beast that was his 1979 classic? Obviously, Scott was clearly passionate about the big ideas and the themes of creation that were in the forefront of Prometheus and while it was a beautiful film to look at it completely forgot to really thrill or scare or play on our most basic of fears. Smartly, with Covenant, Scott has made a monster film - there's splatter, running and plenty of screaming. The bad news is that his execution is fairly routine and lacks anything that truly resembles the sheer terror of Alien. It's too clean looking, the cinematography too crisp, a grandiose vision that wants to feel epic while being a straight-out horror flick - it's a fusion that doesn't meld well together and fails to invest the viewer into its world.

Covenant opens with the birth of David (Michael Fassbender), the synthetic that had a hand in the demise of the Prometheus crew, discussing creation with his creator, Peter Weyland (Guy Pearce, thankfully without the ridiculous old-man make-up). It's a well-shot sequence that establishes some ambition to explore ideas of the creation liberating itself from the creator and the reason for life to be created in the first place. After a very similar title card morphing against a canvas of stars, ten years after the disappearance of the Prometheus and her crew, we are introduced to the Covenant - a colonisation ship with 2000 human colonists, 1000 embryos and a crew of 15 in hyper-sleep on the way to an Earth-like planet to establish the very first colony outside the solar system. After a freak solar flare, the crew are awoken to a damaged ship and, the ships captain (a pointless James Franco cameo), being scorched alive in his hibernation pod. Taking command of the mission is Oram (Billy Crudup), a man of faith trying to find order in the chaos. We're also introduced to colonisation expert, Daniels (Katherine Waterston) in the midst of a personal tragedy, Tennessee (Danny McBride) the ships pilot and finally, Walter (also Michael Fassbender), another android programmed to care for the ship and crew on their long journey to their new home. During their repairs of the ship, the crew detect a faint transmission that appears human from a habitable planet that's only one week away rather than another seven years to their original destination. Despite Daniel's gut feeling that this mysterious planet that defied discovery is "too good to be true" and her protest that it's too great of a risk to the mission, Oram leads the Covenant crew to the surface where a seemingly fertile and lush landscape hides a dark secret and the seemingly innocent sole-survivor of the Prometheus, David.

From the get-go, Covenant moves at breakneck speed. Despite the smart set design of the ship and the stunning landscape shots, we're landing on the planet without really getting to know the characters but at this point you'll already realise these one-dimensional supporting players are just cattle for the slaughter and Scott wastes no time in letting the blood splatter across the screen. Having learning nothing from Prometheus, Scott seems to be oblivious that his crew of scientists, doctors and engineers are mind-numbingly stupid when it comes to basic safety procedures and are more than happy to skip along an alien world without any sort of space suit or biohazard gear to protect themselves. But at least they remember to bring guns. Guns are always good. It's comes as no surprise that members of a crew quickly become infected with a deadly pathogen that soon sees icky creatures bursting from spines and throats to create a big old mess of grand guignol style gore. And this is one of my biggest gripes with Covenant, the aliens (exomorphs, neomorphs, or whatever) are awful looking. Any sign of practical effects are diluted by a sheen of CGI and make the titular beasts rather threat-less. It all happens in such a rush, that almost half the cast is dead within a matter of minutes. Even the gore is CGI aided, resulting in some tame violence that fails to push any boundaries whatsoever. When we finally get around to the anticipated birth of the iconic and classic xenomorph, you're left with a shudder of "that's it?". What made Alien so frightening is that we didn't need to see much of the monster, it was a combination of simple puppetry, light, space, and sound and the looming shadows that haunted the Nostromo in the cold reaches of space. Blood was used sparingly, and we all remember how horrifying Veronica Cartwright's demise was with the viewer seeing very little at all, Scott allowed our own imagination to terrify us. You'd expect him to revive the same technique but his ability of scaring-the-shit out of audiences seem to have been blown out of the goddamn airlock. And don't get me started on the accelerated incubation period of the xenomorph. From facehugger to fully grown beast happens in a matter of minutes, similar to Alien Vs. Predator - yes, it incredibly lazy plotting in a rush to reveal twists that aren't particularly surprising. Bad move, Scott. Bad move. Honestly, there's very little genuine terror to be found in Covenant, it seems to be in race to finish at a very action-orientated third act that stinks of big-budget, blockbuster excesses. In trying to purge the pretentiousness of what came before, Scott manages to strip his original creation of all its mystery and threat - the CGI creation of the xemomorph feels like an ill-advised afterthought, as if the filmmakers ran out of time to spend making it the showpiece of their film.

So what does Covenant contain to justify the admission price? Yes, Scott has a painters eye and the film looks gorgeous and Jed Kurzel's score is simply stunning, an ode to the original but also it's own beast. It's just a shame that the film doesn't quite live up it's standard. Still, like Prometheus, Michael Fassbender is the hook. While the xenomorph fails to bring the fear, David is a sensational villain - the true intrigue of the film. Manipulative and methodical, Fassbender portrays David with such weirdness and iciness that you're gripped for every second he's on the screen. Covenant is saddled with an underwritten script that seems desperate to explaining the origins of the monsters but it also allows for some superb interactions between David and Walter. Their scenes together bubble with genuine creepiness, tension, and what I found most welcoming, a sense of homo-eroticism. It sounds bizarre, but it works brilliantly as they recite poetry, comprehend their existence and the idea of the creation becoming the creator. Whenever Walter and David aren't on screen, the film again becomes one-note. And I honestly don't wish to be too hard, Katherine Waterston does a terrific job of a character that isn't given too much to do but she infuses her performance with an intelligence that make you root for her. It's just a shame that the script betrays her character with a last-scene twist (which you'll see coming a mile off) that undermines her journey from mourner to heroine. It also brings me to one of the biggest missteps of Covenant for about 90% of the running time, the film feels self-contained and that the world-building ambition that ultimately sank Prometheus is abandoned but for some strange reason, scripters John Logan and Dante Harper, do a complete reversal and spins the story to an even bigger universe of mythology and while as a devout fan of the franchise I'll follow it down the path but I do struggle to see how it's possible to connect it with the 1979 original. Covenant ends with a promise of bigger things to come but that is one of the fatal flaws of the film itself. It's promises to get back to basics but fails to deliver on it. I've never seen the Alien franchise as something that needs to build on epic foundations or ponder theories of human existence or looming threat of A.I., - it's to frighten us and make us fear the darkest corners of science-fiction, inspired by Lovercraftian macabre and classic horror film aesthetics, this is the true dark heart of the film series.

Alien: Covenant is not a bad film, in fact, I was never bored throughout. It's solidly and slickly produced and it easily delivers for the general cinema-going audience. It's just, as a cinema lover, the film just feels one-note, scared to take risks like the original trilogy. Ridley Scott is clearly having a blast and as a man who is approaching his eighties, his filmmaking craft still remains impeccable. But, with what was presented to us with Alien: Covenant suggests, for the franchise to survive, is that fresh blood is desperately needed.

I hate to say it but John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars is horrifically inept.

This mess is obviously Carpenter being utterly and creatively spent. It's ponderous, cheap, dull, terribly acted but scripted and edited in such a way that the supposedly straight-forward plot becomes totally incoherent as the very long minutes slowly tick by.

And don't even get me started on those migraine-inducing 'flashbacks-within-flashbacks-within-flashbacks' moments.

Witness Oliver Stone transform the Alexander The Great myth into a pompous soap-opera. Despite battle scenes that reign beautiful chaos upon the screen and a glorious Vangelis score, the remainder of Stone's bloated three-hour epic is a horribly conceived mess that leaves the viewer feeling bewildered and tortured.

The pain comes in the shape of the atrocious casting of Colin Farrell in the title role who is acted off the screen by his platinum blonde wig. Clearly out of his depth, Stone has the finesse of a blunt instrument when it comes to storytelling where scene after scene border on the incoherent with some of the most overwritten and pretentious dialogue you'll ever hear in a film. The rest could easily pass as comedy since Angelina Jolie mistook her role for a Dame in a Transylvanian pantomime, Val Kilmer mumbles and stumbles around like a chicken with its head cut off while Jared Leto champions the excessive use of guy-liner. And if that's not enough pain, there's those excruciating Oirish accents to suffer through. Yes, Oliver Stone portrays a Macedonian and one of history's greatest conquerors as someone who sounds like a crack dealer outside a Dublin methadone clinic.

Melodramatic and artistically absurd, Alexander was a wasted opportunity thanks to a director who was left off the leash with a baffling vision and zero restraint.

A disaster. Not one of the worst films ever made but this Fantastic Four is a gutted carcass, a bloody mess strewn across the screen. Wondrous for all the wrong reasons and you'll be left wondering why a big Hollywood studio would allow itself to be anchored to this sinking ship of a film.

The ugly truth is that it's an ugly film. It's perplexing how such colourful and imaginative source material was translated in such drab fashion to the big screen, no one seems to be having any fun for the supposedly brief 101 minute running-time. Sadly, and regrettably, Josh Trank needs to be culpable. I loved Chronicle, an incredible reinvigoration of not just the found-footage genre but of the superhero cinematic platform but here, Trank seems completely out of his depth. Tonally, it's all over the place and each character is given a criminal amount of screen time resulting in zero emotional connection with the audience or with the story. The first half is saddled with ridiculous expositional dialogue and ponderous, hard science-fiction that it forgets to be a superhero film first without any ounce of fantastical action to be had. Trank has overreached his vision, too many ideas pulling its creator in too many directions. Yes, the goal of a Nolan-ised superhero universe saturates every frame of Fantastic Four but with a film that contains a villain named Victor Von Doom and heroes that can stretch, burst into human torches and become walking monsters of rock - how realistically can you translate those kind of traits into a real-world context? And that is the reason why Fantastic Four is an utter failure, a director that chooses pretension over narrative smarts. Even visually the film looks dismal, relegated to mostly steely grey interior shots, poorly rendered CGI, green-screen alien landscapes and a montage that involves the characters welding, tapping on keyboards and scribbling on whiteboards. It's all incredibly boring which lingers on front of the eyes without an identity.

Saying all that, Trank doesn't deserve all the blame. After the first hour, when the fantastic four finally become fantastic (use the term lightly), the film kicks up a gear but it's a third act that stinks of studio interference, rewrites, re-shoots, and something that was shredded to bits in an editing suite. The story (co-written by Trank, Simon Kinberg and Jeremy Slater) abandons any hope of making emotional investment with its audience or characters and reverts to rushing to a sudden, CGI-heavy climax that's over before it's even begun. It feels tacked on with a cast that looks like it has given up all hope on the entire production. You can literally feel Fox executives hitting panic stations and scrambling to save a film that they clearly didn't believe in from the get-go. The end credits burst on to the screen in an attempt to spare the audience any more grief and you can't help but feel for the cast. It's an excellent cast the film does not deserve and it's the likes of the supremely talented Miles Teller that keeps events watchable even though you only get to see him use his power for a matter of seconds on the screen. Teller effortlessly combines charisma and conflicted affection to a character dedicated save his pals but unfortunately no-one else around him is given the luxury of such screen time. Jamie Bell portrays Ben Grimm as a mumbling monster with a soul but his role is edited to death into nothing more than background noise and a few passing moments of him throwing big things at other things. Michael B. Jordan's Human Torch is saddled with clichéd Daddy-and-angsty teenager issues who likes to break the rules and defy control but as soon as the US military commands him to fall in line and become a weapon, he does so with a smug willingness. Kate Mara as the porny named Sue Storm is the most forgettable, a superwoman with a personality as invisible as her special ability, honestly, you'll forget to single her out in any scene. Luckily, it is all a result of a terrible, idiotic and contradictory screenplay, a lack of creativity and an obvious chaotic post-production process. They're great actors who will find better roles and make better films in careers where Fantastic Four is mere a footnote. This kindness doesn't stretch to the entire cast though, House of Cards Reg E. Cathey seems only to be hired so the 'with great power comes great responsibility' style dialogue can feel deep and meaningful but since Freddy and the Netflix serial are utterly essential, he gets a pass but the same can't be said for Toby Kebbell. He plays Victor Von Doom like a sulking hipster who got booed off stage at an underground poetry reading, he's about as interesting as an urinal cake and when he finally turns full Dr. Doom (in the final fifteen minutes) you'll already had forgotten that he existed in the film in the first place no matter how many heads he makes explode. His reasoning for wanting to destroy the planet is utterly stupid that you can't help laugh at its how, like the entire film, heavy-handed it's all delivered.

Fantastic Four only succeeds in angering its audience with bitter disappointments where even the Marco Beltrami and Philip Glass collaboration on the score is a whole lot of nothing. Maybe it's just a cursed property (even the flimsy Tim Story adaptations are far more appealing) but you'll be left dumbfounded by the fact that this audience-friendly, accessible source material was handled with such toxicity and clumsiness. There's moments of a coherent film scattered along the way but at this point, who really gives a shit? It's already doomed.

There's a lot to stomach... Téa Leoni's shrieking, William H. Macy shirtless, and one very annoying kid that doesn't become a Tyrannosaurs Rex's lunch but while Jurassic Park III will be forever labelled a sequel that nobody particularly asked for it delivers some spectacular dino-action perfectly paced within a satisfyingly brief 90 minutes.

Spielberg's original wasn't just a game changer for the summer blockbuster template, it restored the wonder back into cinema but when an inevitable sequel, The Lost World, was brought around it reeked of a 'been-there-done-that' vibe inheriting any other sequels with a lazy cash-in handicap. Jurassic Park III is virtually plot-less with some horrifically dull characters who you wish death would come to immediately but under Joe Johnston's reliable eye the film looks amazing and the dinosaur VFX and setpieces undoubtedly thrill - the Pterosaurs bird-cage sequence is simply jaw-dropping. Though the producers intention of giving the audience something new, the Spinosaurs entirely fails to emulate the terror of the T-Rex.

What is most baffling about this though is the script is credited to none other than multi Oscar-winners, Alexander Payne and his writing partner Jim Taylor thus becoming the only interesting piece of trivia about this film. Despite a sinful lack of new ideas and some considerable laziness in other departments, Jurassic Park III is a fun watch packed with thrills, spills and number of silly gags that shouldn't work as well as they do. Hell, at least it's better than its predecessor.

Signs probably now serves more as a reminder of the days when M. Night Shyamalan was a master of execution. He effortlessly took stories that could be developed to being something filmed on an epic scope but stripped back to be more minimalistic and atmospheric. With The Sixth Sense, it wasn't just a ghost story but an exploration of fractured familial relationships - a motif that he carried on to Unbreakable (which I think was his finest hour) where he grounded the superhero mysticism in reality. Here, he repeats this signature but set against an alien invasion film but confined to the perspective of a grieving family on a Pennsylvanian farm.

For the best of it, Signs is utterly brilliant. A sci-fi genre piece free from the shackles of clichés and repetitiveness, Shyamalan choosing to cook an indelible atmosphere of unsettledness rather than indulging on the typical concentration of CGI, skyscraper toppling, and huge metal ships in the sky. In fact, the only aspect we get of a global invasion is from brief television news reports that still refuse to fully explain what is actually going on. It may irk many but in Shyamalan's hands it is a tool to build tension while also treating the audience to some perfectly constructed scares and frights. It's in the basement climax where Shyamalan shows off this technical ingenuity, an outstanding milieu of terrifying sound design and nominal lighting with an entire setpiece being lit by only the glow of a torch. Thanks to cinematographer Tak Fujimoto (The Silence of the Lambs, Where the Buffalo Roam), we are restricted to experience only what the characters see - never getting to glimpse the horror happening behind the creaking door. This is when Shyamalan shines most, in his restraint and minimalism.

Still, if you have followed the career-path of Shyamalan's filmography you'll understand that this is 'a M. Night Shyamalan film' - the egotistical side and Signs suffers greatly because of it. Also remembering the days when Mel Gibson could carry and open a film (this launched with an unprecedented $60m in August 2002), he's totally sympathetic as a father and a faithless ex-Priest trying to protect his crumbling family with the help of his courteous brother (a scene-stealing Joaquin Phoenix). It's the richness of their performances that help curb the ponderousness and heavy-handiness of the drama. Shyamalan lays on the faith-based undertow with a relentless conviction to almost a point where certain scenes feel like a preach rather than a plot. Not content with just having a story regarding a family deal with the tribulations of loosing a loved one set against an uncomprehending phenomenon, Shyamalan just can't restrain himself to pampering in religious ideologies that are lazily scrutinised but still feel wholly pretentious. If only he was satisfied with his original premise and just gave more focus to the terror - Signs would've been something truly great. Yet, you still can't forgive him for that dire ending. If the film cut to end credits five minutes earlier it would've been awarded with genre-classic status but it's so damn silly, doesn't make an ounce of sense, and a total cop-out of what came before it that you can't help dip your head in disappointment at something so sloppily conceived.

Wonderfully constructed in terms of execution and outstandingly acted by its cast, Signs teeters on the edge of a stunning achievement. It's a showcase to affirm Shyamalan's natural talent at making movies but also at his stumbling capacity as a writer. If only he removed his head from his ass, he truly would be deserving of 'the next Spielberg' appreciation.

Witness Britain's version of Ellen Ripley in the shape of totes toff Stephanie Beacham with her well conditioned perm.

It's cheaper than Lindsay Lohan's lifestyle but Inseminoid is distracting trashy fun with a concept as ridiculous as its title and lot of people shouting at each other or just screaming at empty space. Oh, and they have black bin liners in space.

"You can see the bond that has developed between this very wild animal, and this very, fairly wild person."

Werner Herzog's thoughtful but cautionary exploration of Timothy Treadwell. Grizzly Man documents his career as a passionate Alaskan bear activist who crossed an invisible line between nature and man where he ultimately paid the price with his own life, and with the life of his girlfriend Amie Huguenard, at the claws of one of the very creatures he claims he was protecting.

Often beautiful and sometimes frightening, Herzog presents us with a complicated and conflicted individual who saw himself as higher power or kindred spirit to these wild, ferocious, and unpredictable animals. Yet the message that remains is the message that Treadfall failed to obtain, that nature cannot be tamed, wielded or even be anticipated. The bears he co-existed with for thirteen summers lived by the laws of nature - the basic urge to feed and to survive without boundaries. Treadwell's presence was the contraindication - he felt connected to them on a spiritual level, that he had the gift to bond with these creatures because earned their respect but while watching this you'll quickly understand that Treadwell survived so long simply because of blind, stupid luck. This passion and his zest for his job is obviously endearing but his hatred for the human world and attraction to the wilderness was not a call of duty but more of a way for Treadwell to absolve himself from his troubled past.

It's no surprise that Herzog is drawn to this subject matter as his filmmaking career contains tales of obsessive characters who tried to wield nature, and Herzog's narration and analysis of Treadwell throughout his documentary proves to be some his most compelling work but also Herzog is the voice of perception that Treadwell would've needed. In the overwhelming beauty (almost inspiring) of Treadwell's footage, he also bares his soul - a man who is fighting an inner turmoil, unable to control his protracted emotions, thus blinded him from the overt dangers that stood right in front of him. Running away from a past that was littered with disappointment, substance and alcohol abuse, and even attempted suicide - the Alaskan wilderness became the stage for the former amateur actor. Here, Treadwell's presence in front of the camera is exuberant, flamboyant, and child-like; able to convey who he actually was without judgement from the human world that he felt less empathy for and his footage became not just a visual journal of nature in progress but a confessional of his life.

Grizzly Man is heartfelt, fascinating, and utterly beautiful to witness. While Treadwell's existence with these splendid but scarily intimidating creatures is tinted with foolishness and sadness, his work and his personality remains endearing, to see someone paint their heart to their home and in the end, to feel nothing but admiration for.

Its potent suspense has still not wavered over the decades. It may not be as tight or as fiendishly carnal as Dressed To Kill but with Brian De Palma's sublime direction that would've left Hitchcock blushing and Oscar-winning cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond capturing some great shots - especially in the hair-raising climax. While the plot is perfectly constructed and it features De Palma's usual emphasis on the sexual, it is the unorthodox blend of genres that makes it stand out from countless standard thrillers.

Blow Out opens as a film within a film - a trashy slasher to fool the viewer. When the plot actually kicks in, it morphs itself into murder mystery with strong overtones of a paranoid political thriller (while still maintaining the element of slasher) but also serves as a reflection of the film making process where the line between reality and fiction are blurred. Even though I'm not a huge fan of him, John Travolta is absolutely terrific as movie sound designer Jack Terry who walks the line between the unwitting hero and paranoid conspiracy theorist - proving an excellent match with De Palma, Travolta excels at drawing the viewer into his world of solving a puzzle consisting of image and sound. And the films sound design is nothing short of outstanding. The creep factor comes in the shape of John Lithgow as the skin-crawling, manipulating serial killer, Burke, who patiently tightens his strangulation wire for the ditzy murder witness, Sally (Nancy Allen). Therein lies the rub though, Allen and De Palma usually create dynamite on-screen but Sally is just essentially a slasher scream-queen caricature to create some titillation and she isn't really given much to do, hinting at a wee bit of misogyny. A criticism that haunted a lot of De Palma's work during the peak of his career.

Apart from a few quibbles, Blow Out is close to perfection. Exquisitely framed and directed, always consistently taut which shines with the usual De Palma trademarks: the right side of sleaze (kudos to Dennis Franz), perfectly judged moments of humour and gruesome violence that never feels gratuitous. One of the best of its kind within the thriller genre and with a superb final five minutes that shocks the viewer with an ending that's both emotionally resonant and unexpectedly bleak. This is truly a master filmmaker at work.

]]>Mark KinsellaThe 'Friday the 13th' Franchise: Rankedhttps://letterboxd.com/markkinsella/list/the-friday-the-13th-franchise-ranked/ letterboxd-list-410352Sun, 12 Oct 2014 01:05:47 +1300The entire Friday the 13th franchise ranked from best to worst... just in time for Halloween.

As they say, the original is always the best. While it wasn't as masterful as Halloween and Black Christmas, Sean Cunningham's genre defining slasher is a total blast with some superbly timed frights and full of iconic moments that are now horror movie history.

It's rare for such a later sequel in a long franchise to almost eclipse the original but The Final Chapter (even though it was #4 out of total of 12 films) is equally as fun the original. The pacing is note perfect and the kills are deliciously nasty with great moments of humour that indulges in the genres best cliches. It also contains the best characters of the entire franchise which includes Corey Feldman stealing the show, Kimberly Beck making a solid scream queen, and Crispin Glover getting a meat cleaver to the head. At least he had the moves though.

Jason X or 'How Jason Went to Space and Became The Terminator' is a whacked-out sequel that relishes it absurdity with utter glee and cheese. The woeful acting, meta-humour, and Babylon 5-style low-grade production values only work as part of its charm.

Part 3 shares a lot in common with The Final Chapter in terms of pacing, great characters and I've always maintained that this film contains a gay subtext that very few slashers tend to go for which makes this one a stand-out.

It's just a shame it was marred by some horrifically cheap 3D and lack of new ideas.

Awesome opening scene but after the original made such a big impact with the commercial rise of the slasher flick, this first sequel is boringly routine and the sack over Jason's head is unintentionally scare-less.

For years this was one of my least favourites but after a few rewatches it contains some well-timed, decent chills and spills. The negative? It's Halloween III-style creative choice of removing Jason from the franchise and replacing him with a copycat killer was a huge misstep. Also, replacing Corey Feldman as Tommy Jarvis doesn't work so well when all the other characters are special needs teenagers that don't do a whole lot and the lead male is terribly dull and oh boy, isn't that Reggie character annoying!?!?

At this point the franchise was certainly wobbling on it's knees and it shows, Jason Lives has a couple of memorable moments but it's also humourless for the most part, jammed packed with awful acting and it's incredibly slow. Still, the James Bond-style opening title head is still one of my favourite moments from the entire franchise - fucking nuts.

The one in which "popstar" Kelly Rowland uses homophobic language for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Detestable but director Ronny Yu utilises the franchise crossover idea set up by Jason Goes to Hell to solid effect with excellent gore and moments of impressive creativity which made a killing at the box office. Still entirely forgettable though.

This was scrapping the bottle of barrel but since this was one of the first Friday the 13th films I saw as a teenager and subsequently increased my love of slasher films, Jason Takes Manhattan holds a special place in my heart. It's still muck though, the cheapest looking one from the entire series: the acting is deplorable, it's virtually plot-free and the blood is hardly anywhere to be seen. Worse still, the film takes place on a boat and Jason doesn't make it to Manhattan until the final 20 minutes where he doesn't really do much other than killing a couple of junkies (who try to inject and rape the final girl) and decapitate the only black character with one punch to the noggin.

Obviously with the studio not caring anymore, Part VIII sank without a trace at the box office but with material this sloppy it deserved its fate that put franchise into dormancy for almost five years.

Come the seventh installment, the franchise was on it's knees. Shite plot, shite characters, and shite kills. The MPAA was coming down hard on cinema violence during it's release so this installment is incredibly tame but with the films making less and less profit for the studio, the producers didn't really bother coming up with a coherent story and after watching this you truly felt the series had become nothing more than a commodity.

]]>Mark KinsellaEsstential Documentaries.https://letterboxd.com/markkinsella/list/esstential-documentaries/ letterboxd-list-185540Mon, 9 Sep 2013 02:27:59 +1200These are some of the best documentaries I've ever seen and should be watched by anyone who loves a stirring story. There's so many more I want to see, so please let me know what I others I can add to the list.

]]>Mark KinsellaFilms with superb pieces of music.https://letterboxd.com/markkinsella/list/films-with-superb-pieces-of-music/ letterboxd-list-187681Sun, 15 Sep 2013 03:40:52 +1200A list of of my favourite pieces of music ever put to film and trying to avoid some of better known and beloved soundtracks that everyone knows. Some you may know, other you may not but please add to anything that you think should be on the list.

Hymn 87: Welcome Happy Morning by Hanan Townshend. Featured on the end credits of Malick's Palme-D'or winning masterpiece. There's a lot of wonderful music that compliments The Tree of Life but Hymn 87 just seems perfect and simple for the closing of a film that boldly spans from family interactions to the creation of the universe.

C.L.U. by Daft Punk. The film itself is shockingly dull but it's a delight to the ears and, if you were like me after leaving the cinema thinking: why the hell isn't Daft Punk scoring more films? Tremendous.

]]>Mark KinsellaThe Greatest Scary Films for Halloweenhttps://letterboxd.com/markkinsella/list/the-greatest-scary-films-for-halloween/ letterboxd-list-60449Sun, 21 Oct 2012 00:06:20 +1300I despise fancy-dress on Halloween, especially when it's top on the social calendars for most thirty-something year olds. I much prefer some popcorn, a few bottles of beers and watching some of the greatest horror films of all time.

One of the greatest films of all time. Exceptionally directed and acted, The Exorcist is memorable not just for its scares but for its fierce intelligence and its simple technique of playing on our worst fears.

Intense and extremely violent. This will be remembered as one of the greatest contemporary horror films of all time. Why? It toys with mankind's obsession with religious fulfillment, the human violence that society prefers to hide away from and the utter helplessness of the two lead female characters who you really want to survive. Martyrs isn't just frightening, it's tragic and intelligent.